


A Part of Nature

by sunshinestealer



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5225513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinestealer/pseuds/sunshinestealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Beast is just as natural as the trees, the earth, the sky. And sometimes, nature is cruel. A lesson the Woodsman is going to have to learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Part of Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Часть природы](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588093) by [fandom_gerontophilia_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_gerontophilia_2016/pseuds/fandom_gerontophilia_2016)



The Beast is a creature of necessity.

Bottom feeders and scavengers in the animal kingdom may cause revulsion in many people, but their jobs make the world just a little less unpleasant.

The Beast was greater and older than even the forest itself, having walked out of the ether with the saplings and bushes following in its wake. The current greenery of the Unknown had sprang out of a land with a near permanent cover of fog, as the Beast laid its mantle across this little kingdom. These trees grew into hardy oaks and tall pines, vast evergreens and conifers. Bushes and scrub grasses rose from the ground at its command, as this ancient spirit of the forest worked magic in the new territory.

In the past, he had been worshipped. The ancestors of now supposedly ‘civilised’ people had been right in knowing that one must pay heed to the spirits that rule over the land. The Beast’s kith and kin had provided humans with fertile land and bountiful harvests, and in return, the humans had paid great devotion to them. Festivals in their honour. Offerings. Sometimes even sacrifices, if the ruling god or spirit was said to be bloodthirsty.

There was a sense of sublime awe felt by humans at the beauty of nature, and where there is belief, there is a god to fulfil that role. Likewise, where there is an unpleasant role to be played, nature will find a way.

Humans are a creative species. Across multiple continents with forested regions, there is always some fearsome spirit or deity inhabiting the woods. Some believe it takes away children unlucky enough to get lost inside after a day’s play or foraging. Others believe it will enact horrible karmic revenge if the sanctity of the forest is threatened by human development — the arrogance of modern mankind to stand against nature.

The Beast is just one of the many monsters that humans have imagined lurking in the shadows of the great evergreen trees that stretch towards the sky, canopies forming a cage over them, the lack of landmarks enough to have one walking in a circle for hours on end until falling into despair.

The forest is threatened without The Beast. Hence the necessity of making deals and withholding information to those unfortunate enough to come to need their guidance. 

The Woodsman had been wandering around for many hours on one dark autumn night, becoming more and more frightened as he lost sight of his home. The Beast had slipped among the shadows, offering a voice of comfort before misdirecting the man countless times. Fending off starvation and thirst, the Woodsman had collapsed against one of the Beast’s trees.

The Beast knew exactly where they were, and exactly how they would get back to the little log cabin. Not difficult, when you _were_ the entity of the forest itself. The Woodsman wouldn’t know that he was only a handful of miles away from home, his daughter patiently awaiting his return.

There was a reason why the more homely folks in the Unknown kept up little talismans above the doors and hanging from the eaves of their homes, clutching these artefacts tightly in their hands while outdoors, and praying for the safe return of those who ventured into the forest to forage or chop firewood. There was a reason they told all who had newly arrived that they must “beware the Beast”. Just a silly old superstition, he thought. The Woodsman had patronised the tavern only a few times, but the way the bartender phrased her warning… it sounded like it came from personal experience.

He hadn’t believed there was a creature that could turn a human being into a tree. His background forbade the knowledge of ancient cultures, with their stories of capricious pagan gods and spirits. But as he laid against the trunk of a yew tree, looking straight into the glazed, victorious eyes of the deity of the forest… Any words the Woodsman had died in his throat, the man almost hypnotised out of fear.

“Greetings,” the Beast said, almost pleasantly. “It doesn’t seem like you will be able to get home any time soon.”

The Woodsman knew that beings such as this were the kind of ply unfair deals to those who had lost their faith. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid as to walk right into the creature’s trap.

As if the creature had read his mind, the Beast reared itself up. It still used the darkness to its advantage — an obscure humanoid form, with a heavy, leafed mantle upon its shoulders, disconcertingly long limbs and gnarled Edelwood branches crowning its head.

“You are rather skilled.” The Beast offered, and the Woodsman was almost too surprised to reply. “You built and furnished your shelter when you and your daughter arrived here with nothing. Quite impressive.”

“But…” His rounded, glowing eyes narrowed some. “You have perhaps taken too much from me. So I have deigned to take much from you.”

A dark wooden limb stretched out, tossing something carelessly over to the Woodsman. His face paled at the sight of it — his daughter’s brooch. The only sign of vanity she was permitted to wear, since it had been a gift from her late mother.

“I’ve known that it was going to happen for a long time, now. Your daughter has passed on. You two have spent long enough in the Unknown to know that your spirits would move along eventually, no?”

The Woodsman took the brooch in his hands, squeezing it tightly in his palm, not caring that the pin was pricking into his skin. Could he not protect his family? At all? His wife had perished due to her sickness growing worse and worse each winter. The Woodsman and his daughter had followed two years after, travelling through the great northern forests with a mule and wagon in search of a new place to call home. Eventually, the woods had shifted into the landscape of the Unknown, ill prepared as they were.

He was too stunned by the sudden grief to even get his words out. The Beast had him in its thrall. Excellent. The deity had noticed its power and influence growing weaker these past few decades, as more spirits had passed into the next life, leaving less people to honour the forest in the way it should be honoured.

The Beast took a moment to rifle through its cloak, the leaves rustling for effect. Not once did the Woodsman look away from the Beast’s gaze. 

Long fingers drew something from out of the cloak. A little ball of light, barely enough to fit in one’s palm. “Do you know what this is, Woodsman?”

He shook his head.

“You don’t recognise it? Not at all?”

The Beast’s spindly fingers drew closely over the ball of light, which gently spun in its hand.

The Woodsman’s eyes widened. He could hear the laughter of his daughter, however distant and distorted it was. This was a very particular memory — he had surprised his wife with a brand new log cabin on their anniversary. His daughter, merely four years old that the time, had laughed and danced around the interior of their larger home, marvelling in how warm it was.

The Beast coaxed another memory out of the little ball of light. The Woodsman choked up, hearing his daughter, now in her fifteenth year, suggesting that they leave the log cabin behind.

“Her mother left the world early, did she not?” The Beast suggested. “Why would it be any different for her daughter in this world?”

“Stop,” the Woodsman stuttered out, shocked to find himself with wet cheeks, tears tracking down them. “Please, stop it.”

“Your daughter is gone,” the Beast said in a gentle tone of voice. “Death comes for us all in the end.”

The Woodsman remained silent, grabbing his lantern from around his belt and using the trunk of the tree to steady himself into a standing position. The same lantern he’d found at the foot of a tree near his home, twisted and rotted from the inside out.

The Beast’s eyes narrowed. _So that’s where it’s been all this time_. But then, an idea came to mind.

“I have your daughter’s spirit here, Woodsman,” the creature said. “Once separated in death, the spirit cannot be returned to a mortal vessel. But… it can be bound to an inanimate object.”

The Woodsman whirled suddenly, his hatchet in hand. “Don’t you dare, _you monster!_ ”

“Don’t I dare what?”

“Keep her! L-let her spirit pass on to the Heavens. I command you!”

“There is no mortal who may command me,” the Beast reminded him, chiding. “I propose we make a deal.”

The Woodsman stopped to consider, terrified of the implications for his own soul if he made a deal with this being who seemed to be able to conjure the forest to his own whims. “I am not about to turn my back on-”

“And what if your god has already turned his back on you?” The Beast asked, cocking its head. “What then?”

His heart froze. 

The Beast didn’t mean to ponder aloud _too_ philosophically. But, it knew the Woodsman was on the cusp of despair. He just needed one more little push.

“You are forcing me into this under duress,” the Woodsman snapped. “Devils like you always do this to their prey!”

The Beast offered no comment, just standing stock still. The wind blew its cloak back and forth. After a long moment, it said: “Am I not trying to help?”

The long fingers continued to delicately stroke at the ball of light in its hands, the deathly silence of the woods soundtracked with gentle laughter, the sound of the stream that flowed outside of the old house, happy chatter from gambolling on summer days that seemed to last forever…

The forest became silent again, as the Beast quickly put the ball of light back into its cloak. It had taken a lot of energy for the Beast to conjure even something that simple.

“We can come to an agreement,” the Beast said, slinking beneath the shadows almost too fast to see, hands suddenly laying upon the Woodsman’s shoulders. The creature’s head drew nearer. “I have use for your skills. Surely you have noticed the oil secreted by certain trees in the wood. Especially since you have chopped down so many, to make that shelter and keep the chill out of your bones.”

He vaguely recalled the oil seeping out of the trees. He had bottled some out of mere curiosity and found it was an effective fuel for his lantern. This meant he could work later in the darker months, and with a wider range than before. It was only when he strayed from the path he’d set out for himself…

The lantern’s flame had burned out on the Woodsman’s second day lost in the woods. He cursed himself for not thinking to pack a spare match, to try and set the little dribble of oil alight.The Beast hadn’t made his presence known _before_ the lantern’s light went out. In the ancient times, the lantern had been a torch, symbolising the rider in a hunting party whose job it was to illuminate the way forward for the rest of them and protect them from the darkness drawing in. As time drew on, the form of the artefact had changed, slipping out of the Beast’s hands until another unlucky soul in the Unknown picked it up.

Without the torch or the lantern, the Beast could feel both itself and the forest it represented weakening. Trees and shrubs withered and died, harvests were blighted, and animals didn’t wake up from winter hibernation. The Beast had considered that its essence was somehow bound to the flame, whether it burned at the tip of a torch or in the confines of a lantern. 

Nature had provided oil from the Edelwood trees to keep the flame lit. Not wishing to wink out of existence as so many other gods had as time marched on, the Beast would single out a lost soul in the Unknown to become the bearer of the torch or the lantern. But not before observing them, even in a weak and brittle state such as this. Even so, he couldn’t _die_ like those gods — there were those in the Unknown who still believed and paid their reverence. The Beast would just be in an incredibly weak state until such a time as the flame was lit again, and its influence over the forest renewed.

The Beast’s fingers curled on the Woodsman’s shoulders, like the branches of a dying tree. The deity had been watching the Woodsman and his daughter long enough to get a feel for their relationship. It was closer than most, especially since the girl took strongly after her mother. The two would agree on what indoor and outdoor work needed doing in the morning, and return to the home in the evening to prepare a meal and talk over the fire about happier times. Familial ties like this were the best ones to exploit, in the Beast’s experience. Especially as the humans would do _anything_ for each other.

When the Beast had found lantern bearers on their own, well, that was more difficult. The deity would have to lie to them about keeping the flame lit, spinning a tale about the creatures lurking in the darkness, or that the lantern was needed to illuminate their path _home_. Not that the Beast understood why a person wouldn’t want to stay in an endless forest until the day they passed on to the next world.

It was easy to pull family members apart. The Beast likened it to pulling the legs off of an insect. It had been so easy to convince the Woodsman that it had been his fault that he got lost in the woods, his fault that his daughter had suddenly passed on without the opportunity to say goodbye…

“You see, your daughter’s spirit could be contained within that lantern. Keep the flame lit… and you need not be separated from her. She will live on in the lantern, her thoughts and memories stored within.” The Beast suggested, adding in an almost sympathetic squeeze of the shoulders. To the Woodsman, however, it felt like being trapped in a vice.

“M-monster…” He stuttered, looking into the empty confines of the lantern.

The Beast was pensive. “There are those who have called me that. But, Woodsman, I am only trying to help you.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Speak up, Woodsman.”

“I’ll take your cursed deal!” He snapped, tears of grief still falling. The Woodsman gnashed his teeth, stomping towards the nearest Edelwood tree in the clearing. His hatchet in hand, he beat at the trunk and the branches until the oil was freely leaking. Collecting some in his palm, he let the liquid dribble inside the spout of the lantern from his fingertips.

The Beast observed this entire outburst, and while surprised, the creature was brimming with glee at the prospect of a new lantern bearer. With a lantern bearer, it would be powerful enough to bring more souls forth into the Unknown, to turn them into Edelwood trees and continue the cycle anew.

“There’s no way to light it,” the Woodsman said, trying to fight a pathetic whimper creeping into his voice. “I have no matches.”

“That will be no issue,” the Beast said, taking the ball of light out again, which was tossed it to the Woodsman. He fumbled to catch it. “Your daughter was a warm soul to begin with.”

Within a matter of moments, the light was placed into the glass casing of the lantern. The Beast strained a little, to magically create a spark that would keep the lamp oil burning, but the Woodsman was too focused on the light, reflecting images of happier times to even notice as the flame was lit beneath.

“That is our contract,” the Beast said as it drew away. Already it could feel the power drawing back towards its core, its mind becoming one with the forest again, with the changing of the seasons and the life force of every plant and creature. “We are now bound, and you do my bidding. Which is, chopping the trees to _light the fire_.” The Beast almost sang the last few words, having always enjoyed the little ditties humans would come up with.

“Show me how to get home,” the Woodsman said, still peering into the light. He was forced to squint, almost.

“That was not part of the deal,” the Beast said. It was true — it wasn’t. “But I do know of a mill nearby.” It gestured one great hand towards the northwest.

Cruelly, the mill turned out to have a stream running right beside it as well. The Woodsman had hung back as the Beast almost seemed to glide through the darkness of the forest, humming an ancient folk tune. He kept the lantern closely held in his hand, looking down to his daughter’s spirit every now and again.

As they stood on the brow of the small hill leading down to the valley where the mill was located, the Beast pondered aloud. “I will continue to call you Woodsman. Lantern-bearer does not quite have the same ring to it.”

The Woodsman wandered down into the valley, and the Beast remained in the shadows.

There may have been a decrease in followers over the years, but the Beast was fine with just the one person devoting their life to the service. Even if it had to be done under duress. The deity of the forest watched the lantern light bobbing up and down as the Woodsman walked, marvelling at just how easy it had been.

The Beast could feel the powers of the forest slowly returning. It was good to be back among the natural environment, able to feel a tangible connection with the land and breathe in the crisp autumn air. 

The god was a natural part of the forest, after all. Nature, irascible and confusing as it may have seemed to mortals, always had a plan.

There was short burst of mirthful laughter as the Beast stepped to one side, to patrol around the forest again. He would leave the Woodsman to bash down the door of the mill and sort out his new shelter. For now, it was time to look for new souls to turn into the very same trees the Woodsman would now be obliged to cut down.

_Chop the wood to light the fire…_  


End file.
